


eloquent graffiti

by danhedonia



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Blowjobs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, also stripping, artist!Phil, i dont really remember, implied handjob kind of, mutual love and appreciation, painter!phil, phandom fic fest, phil is a dumbass and dan's a raging flirt, that's the sexiest part of this tbh, the second chapter took 6 months to write for some reason but it's here and finally finished, think dailybooth dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danhedonia/pseuds/danhedonia
Summary: It was a beautiful, relatively simple scene; a field with mountains off in the horizon, a galaxy for a sky, and a silhouette of a man made of stardust laying in a field, looking up at the universe above him.Phil didn’t know it at the time, but that was the first painting of his that Dan inspired. Dan was his spaceman, his beautiful work of art that Phil wanted to spend the rest of his life recreating in every possible way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelesterhowells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelesterhowells/gifts).



> A huge thank you to thelesterhowells for giving me an amazing prompt that gave way to this fic. I hope you love it as much as I do.
> 
> And an EXTRA special thanks to the two people who offered to beta this for me, @astudyinfondness and @MaeTaurus . You two made this fic so much better and I'm endlessly grateful for you!  
> Especially Emily for your help in the word wars chat. I wouldn't have been able to finish this without your encouragement and lovely, kind words. Thank you so much <3

**20 September 2011**

Everything felt dull. After graduating from university, Phil had been so full of hope for the future. He knew he was promising – he’d always been creative and talented, even when he was still a teenager, he’d make music videos to his favorite songs with their own story lines, he’d create his own costumes and paint something if he needed a background or something of the like. They were a little cringey looking back on them as a twenty-five-year-old, but he could still appreciate the effort and passion he’d put into them. 

Everything changed once he’d gotten out of school, though. In university, he’d chosen to pursue painting. It wasn’t the only art form he loved, but it was the one that he thought he was best at and the one that made him the most excited, so he studied it as hard as he could and moved to London after graduating to be closer to a thriving art scene. What he hadn’t anticipated was how difficult it would be to build a career or make some sort of steady income. No matter what he did, nobody was interested in his work. It was disheartening. As time went on, it became harder and harder to create, because he knew that no matter what he did, it would still be the same. He’d stay unknown, he’d stay broke, and he’d stay unenthused about his work. It was awful, to put it simply.  

Phil had taken to picking up random, easy assignments to make ends meet for a while. It worked for the most part, but he very quickly grew tired of panicking at the end of every month because he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to pay the rent on his objectively crappy studio apartment that was far too expensive because everything in London was. So, he picked up a “real” job as a professor at Middlesex University. It wasn’t hard – given the fact that he had a master’s in art, he was qualified for the job so long as he was only teaching basic courses. So he taught a two hour long Intro to Painting course on Tuesdays and Thursdays, one that was an extracurricular course for students whose course wasn’t art, but still wanted to take an art class.

When the first day of him teaching finally came around, Phil looked at his roster for the first time and was… a little disappointed. There were only twelve people signed up for the class, which made sense, given that it was a workshop type class, but it felt underwhelming. Still, being who he was, Phil tried to look on the bright side – maybe he didn’t have that many students, but that meant he could get to know each of them well, if nothing else.

At eight-thirty, people started coming in for his nine o’clock class. Phil introduced himself to all of them as they came in and gave them their paint set and brushes, then told them to take a seat wherever they wanted. Once the clock was showing a few minutes past nine and only two people were missing from the room, Phil stood up from his little desk, smiling at the small room of people in front of him. “Hi,” he began, walking around to lean against the front of his desk. “I know I’ve already introduced myself to all of you, but I’m Ph-“

In the middle of his introduction, Phil was cut off by a tall, flustered-looking bundle of limbs crashing against the door and unceremoniously sliding into the room. 

“I – fuck – I’m sorry. I’m late.” The boy nervously fixed his fringe, glancing around the classroom and flushing when he saw all the other students looking at him. It was almost endearing. Or it would’ve been, at least, if he didn’t look like he wanted to die and Phil didn’t have a class to teach.

“It’s alright.” Phil said with a smile. He reached behind him to grab one of the paint kits on his desk as he glanced down at the role sheet. “I’m Phil – or, Mr. Lester, I suppose. The only people left are Daniel and Esther, so...” He raised an eyebrow.

The boy gave a somewhat nervous laugh but seemed to relax a bit, gratefully taking the kit from Phil’s outstretched hand. “Just Dan, actually.” He paused a moment, then glanced around the classroom again. “I’m sorry, I’ll, uh... I’ll go sit. Don’t want to delay the class any more than I already have.” With that, Dan hurried down the aisles away from Phil and took his seat at an easel in the back. 

This first class was simple – Phil just went over what they’d learn over the next few months, and then talked the students through the different brushes and paints in their kit and what they could be used for, as well as where they could be found. He had to go through a few more housekeeping things too, like where they could contact him (he was required to have office hours with this job, which was strange for him – he’d never even had an office before, let alone office hours).

Overall, it was probably a pretty boring class, but Phil left feeling more excited about art than he had since he graduated. When he got home, he dove back into writing his lesson plans for the year, suddenly eager to show these uni students how amazing painting is, why he fell in love with it in the first place.

* * *

 

**22 September 2011**

When Phil woke up on Thursday, he was nearly jittery with anticipation. The lesson plan wasn’t particularly interesting for him – he would just be giving a short lecture and demonstration on basic shapes and shading, then the class was going to practice while Phil walked around and helped them with concepts they might be having issues with.

So, the first thirty minutes of the class were occupied by Phil, with the help of a powerpoint he’d made the night before, explaining different methods of painting as related to shapes and shading. The next twenty minutes were filled with him pulling up a picture of a white ball set on a table and showing them step by step how to shade it correctly.

“So,” Phil said as he turned around, wiping his fingers off onto his already paint-covered jeans. “It’s not that hard, really. It may seem like a lot now, but it just takes a little focus and practice. And that’s exactly what we’re gonna do today – you all have your own sketchbooks on your easels. I want you to spend the last hour or so of class painting this little ball over and over again until you feel like you’ve gotten the concept down. I’ll be walking around to answer any questions or give you tips on how to improve what you’re doing. In no time, you’ll be able to paint beautiful balls in your sleep.”

There was a bit of snickering, and Phil’s face reddened as he realized what he’d said. With a sheepish smile, he told the class to start painting and went about cleaning his supplies. For the rest of the class, he made his way through the few rows of students, making some small talk with them and giving them advice on their paintings. They were doing pretty well, for the most part, as Phil had expected, so he was mostly just pointing out what they’d done well and giving them a few ways to improve their technique.

“Just Dan, right?” Phil asked with a smile as he moved over to the brown-haired boy who’d run into class late the first day. He’d come fifteen minutes early today with a flushed face and a bashful smile that left Phil somehow feeling fond, then hurried to the same easel he’d sat at the previous period. “Show me what you’ve been working on.”

“Just Dan, yeah.” Dan pouted a little as he looked at his easel, moving to the side so that Phil could look at it. “I, er.. I’m not doing it quite right. I’m not sure what exactly I’m doing wrong, but it doesn’t look anything like yours does.” 

“Well, that’s alright. It doesn’t have to look like mine. The world would be boring if everyone did everything in the exact same way.” Phil slipped into the space next to Dan, looking over his work. It wasn’t bad. He had all the colors in the right place – the gradient was there, it was just in blocks rather than blending together. “It’s not bad, actually. Everything’s there, it looks like you’re just having trouble blending it all. Have you tried to blend the colors after you laid them down?”

Dan just blinked at Phil. “Uh. I think so.” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

Phil nearly had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. “Show me what you were doing.” He said, watching as Dan picked up his brush and went about layering the colors in the way Phil had demonstrated, a way that was meant to make a smooth transition from where the light hit the ball to where it didn’t, but looked more like regular lines with the minimal amount of blending Dan was doing. “Ah, I see. It looks like you’re, like, scared to blend too much. Like you think it’ll mess up the color placement or something. Try it again, just a little more force and bring your brush down further into the other colors.”

Dan nodded, though he looked a little confused, and picked his brush up again, trying to follow Phil’s directions as best as he could. It looked better, but still a little too divided, so he kept trying. “That’s better? Maybe?” He looked up at Phil, obviously unsure of himself as he halted the brush on his canvas. In Dan’s defense, he hadn’t so much as picked up a paintbrush since he was eight before taking this class.

“It’s better, but you’re still not actually blending it enough. Here, let me help you.” Without really thinking about it, Phil reached out and covered Dan’s hand with his own, guiding his hand to press the brush into the canvas a bit harder and dragging it down further than Dan had been on his own, then guiding it back up and down until the colors blended together almost seamlessly. “There. Something like that.” 

When Phil finally looked from the painting to Dan with a small smile on his face, his heart leaped into his throat. Dan’s face was scarlet and his eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open ever so slightly. “I... thank you?”

Phil couldn’t help but stare for a moment, suddenly very aware of the way Dan’s hair framed the sides of his face like a work of art and the way a little dimple appeared on one of his cheeks when he started to laugh nervously. And his eyes – god, his eyes. They were like pools of chocolate honey that Phil wanted desperately to lose himself in and there was a little spattering of freckles underneath them that Phil could spend hours mapping out. After a moment, he shook his head to snap out of the daze he’d gotten himself into and dropped his hand, stepping away from Dan – from his  _ student _ . Whatever he’d been thinking, whatever he’d been staring at, that was inappropriate. Still, Dan’s flustered face and how disappointed he looked to lose the warmth of Phil pressed against his side made Phil’s stomach feel queasy, but in a good way, which was new.

“Just, um, keep doing that. Or something like that.” Phil ran his hand through his hair to push his quiff back a little more, something of a nervous habit. “If you keep practicing, I’m sure you’ll have it down in no time. Soon enough, you’ll be shading better than me.” With that, Phil gave an awkward smile and turned on his heel, moving to the next student as quickly as possible to get his mind off of whatever the hell just happened.

* * *

 

**15 November 2011**

Around two months into classes, Phil assigned the first major project. It was nothing too complicated, and the class had learned enough about technique that he believed his students would be able to handle the project – to create a new cover for an album of their choosing based on their interpretation of the album. There was only two rules; first, it couldn’t be a copy of the original artwork, and two, it couldn’t have a person in it because they hadn’t worked on that yet, and Phil didn’t want them to lose technique points for something they hadn’t learned yet. Alongside the painting, they had to turn in a short explanation of why they painted what they did, what the meaning behind their project was; this bit was mostly for Phil so he could be sure they weren’t just turning in a random painting.

The class after he assigned the project, he reminded everyone at the end. “It’s probably a good idea to at least have the album you’re doing picked out by the next week. I know it’s not due for a month, but you’d be surprised how quickly time flies by when you’re not working on assignments.” Phil said with a smile as the students packed their things.

Once they began to file out, Phil started to pack his own things, until he heard someone clear their throat softly.

“Mr. Lester? Sorry to bother you, but do you have a moment?”

Phil looked up from his bag and saw Dan standing by his desk, fidgeting nervously. “Of course, Dan.” He said with a warm smile. “Is it about the project?”

Dan nodded. “It’s a bit unusual for me, as I normally procrastinate until I absolutely can’t anymore, but.. I’ve already picked out the album I’ll be doing and I’m actually really excited, so I wanna get started as soon as possible, but…” He bit his lip, gripping the strap on his backpack tightly and tugging it down. “I’m having trouble coming up with an actual concept.”

“I can help with that. What album have you chosen?”

“It’s  _ Origin of Symmetry _ . It’s kind of an older album, but it’s my favorite album by-“ Dan was cut off by Phil excitedly butting in. 

“By Muse! That’s my favorite album of theirs, too!”

“It’s brilliant, right?” Dan’s face lit up suddenly, eyes twinkling in a way Phil hadn’t seen yet. It was threatening to capture all of Phil’s attention – it would’ve, if he wasn’t so excited about a chance to talk about how much he loved Muse. “Muse is one of my favorite bands.”

“Mine, too! Honestly, if Matt Bellamy’s voice was a person, I’d probably fu- uh, marry it.” Phil’s face got a little red.

Dan just gave him a knowing little smirk. “No, I agree. It’s sexy.”

Phil cleared his throat, praying his ears didn’t look as hot as they felt. “Did you have any ideas for the concept?”

“I do, actually. I want to keep the cacti from the original cover, but I want to make them smaller and actually symmetrical, unlike the catastrophe they put on there.” Dan gave an annoyed eye roll, as if asymmetrical cacti were the cause of the world’s problems. Phil couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “My problem is that I don’t really know what to do for everything else. I know I want it to be at an angle where the ground won’t show, so it’s just cacti and the sky, but I want it to feel… spacey, if that makes sense. I also don’t want the cacti to just be green. That’s boring.”

Phil nodded. “The album does have a sort of ‘spacey’ feeling to it, yeah. I mean, the most obvious thing I can think of for that is painting the sky in a galaxy pattern, which really isn’t very hard.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the quiff back a little further and trying to ignore the way Dan’s eyes seemed to follow the movement. That was something of an issue with Dan. There weren’t very many people in the class, so it was hard for Phil  _ not _ to notice the way Dan’s eyes seemed to follow his every movement during class, the way he seemed to pay much more attention to Phil during lecture and even during practice than any of the other students. It was especially hard to miss the way Dan seemed unafraid to run his eyes over Phil’s body when Phil came over to his easel to check his work. Phil tried to ignore it, but it always made him flush. “It’s got a bit to do with perspective, too – like gaining perspective, I guess, and how yours could differ from someone else’s. Does that help at all?”

“I don’t really see what perspective has to do with color, though.”

“Use your imagination.”

Dan laughed. “I’m not sure that this is a good place for my imagination. I’m not a particularly imaginative person, unlike you.” Dan smiled, and then his face lit up again, just like it had when Phil started talking about Muse. Phil’s stomach felt weird, like it was trying to do a flip. “Wait! Have you heard of that color theory thing? The one about how, like, if we’re looking at something pink, you may be seeing what I call green but we both call it pink because that’s what we were taught?”

Phil blinked. “Um... yeah, I think so. It’s really confusing, I know that much.”

“I could do that! I could paint them all different colors – like neon and pastel and neutral and stuff – because it’s all about perspective!” Dan looked so excited. Phil’s stomach felt even weirder. “Also, I think it would look really cool. Right?”

“It would! That’s a really cool idea, honestly.” Phil smiled softly and grabbed his bag, tossing it over his shoulder. “And to think you said you didn’t have an imagination. I can’t wait to see what you turn in, Dan.”

Dan’s cheeks turned a soft shade of red. “Thank you, Mr. Lester. I’ll, um, I’ll go now.  Don’t want to annoy you for too long, do I?”

Before Phil could answer, Dan spun around and hurried out of the classroom, leaving Phil to watch after him. No matter how hard he tried, Phil couldn’t find it in himself to stop smiling. He felt good, artistically – he felt inspired; more inspired than he could remember feeling in a while.

Maybe it was a little weird, because he was Dan’s professor, but after that conversation, Phil couldn’t help but think that Dan reminded him of the stars in the sky and the vastness of the universe, how it felt so big and they were so small but somehow still a part of that endlessness.

As he walked out of his office, his head was spinning with ideas in ways that it hadn’t since university, and by the time Phil was back at his flat there was a concrete plan in his head and his fingers itching to wrap his fingers around a paint brush again.

* * *

 

**12 December 2011**

Quicker than even Phil anticipated, the due date for the project he’d assigned was rapidly approaching. Dan had emailed Phil and asked if they could meet in his office on the Monday before it was actually due so that he’d have a night to fix anything Phil found wrong with it. 

When Dan walked in, Phil was at his easel, putting a few finishing touches on a painting he’d been working on for the past month. “Mr. Lester?” He said softly, stepping in. “Am I interrupting?”

Phil jumped a little when Dan spoke. He’d been so engrossed in the paining, he hadn’t realized someone came in. “Oh! Dan, it’s just you.” He let out a breath and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, then set his brush down in a cup of water. “Of course not, I’ve been expecting you.”

“What are you working on?” Dan came closer, his eyes trained on the canvas in front of Phil.

It was beautiful, even Phil thought so. It was a relatively simple scene, a field with mountains off in the horizon and a small figure laying on the ground, seemingly staring up at the stars. The scenery was muted though – not quite black and white, but close enough to feel unimportant in contrast to the vivid colors of the sky. Phil had painted a vibrant galaxy in place of the regular black sky and stars, swirls of stardust mixed with big stars and planets and Dan even saw a little UFO in the corner. It was entrancing. The part that Phil loved the most, though, was the figure on the ground. It was a silhouette, but rather than paint a plain black outline, Phil had filled it in with the pattern of the stardust in the sky.

“It’s a proposal for a mural out by Piccadilly Circus.” Phil smiled softly. “It’s actually based a little bit off of  _ Origin of Symmetry _ and the conversation we had about it. Hopefully it’s decent enough that someone will want me to paint it, like, seven times as big.”

“They will.” Dan said quickly, eyes wide in amazement as he looked over the painting. “I’m scared to show you mine now. Yours is so much better than mine.”

“I’m literally a professional painter. I’m paid to do this. Honestly, I’d be embarrassed if my painting wasn’t better than one of my student’s.”

With a pout, Dan turned the canvas paper in his arms around, holding it out for Phil to look at.

It was beautiful, too. It lacked the technical abilities that Phil’s painting had, but what Dan may have lacked in technique, he made up for in effort. It was just as he’d explained; a starry, galaxy-filled background with cacti of all colors in front of it. Phil could see everything that he and Dan had talked about in it. Space and perspectives and Muse – it screamed  _ Origin of Symmetry _ more than anything else Phil had ever seen.

“You’re true to your word, at least. The cacti are all symmetrical.” Phil said with a teasing lilt to his voice. He couldn’t take his eyes off the painting. “It’s amazing, Dan. Really. I wouldn’t be able to tell that this was an intro-level student’s if I didn’t already know. I don’t think there’s much to fix, honestly, except maybe more blending in the galaxy. Even that’s not bad, though.”

When Phil finally looked up, Dan was grinning and he somehow looked proud and bashful at the same time. Phil couldn’t look too long, it was almost blinding. 

“Thanks. I, um… I worked really hard on it.” Dan seemed to relax just from hearing that Phil liked his work. “I was worried it was awful.”

“No, trust me, it’s not. You’ve got a lot of talent. Seems like you pick up on stuff quickly.”

“I do. At least, people tell me that a lot.”

“They’re right. You’re doing really well, especially for someone who hasn’t actually painted before.” 

Phil glanced at his phone, frowning. He had a meeting with the people in charge of deciding who painted the mural soon. “I should go. I have a meeting – or, more of an interview, I guess – to decide if I get to paint the mural.” He stood up with a sigh and gave an apologetic smile.

Dan immediately pulled his project back, nodding vigorously. “No, no, of course! Good luck, Mr. Lester. I really hope you get it. You deserve it.” He gave a smile that felt too sincere for a student to give a professor and stood there for just a moment too long, lingering, like he didn’t want to leave even though he knew he should. “Alright. I’ll, uh, see you in class then?”

“I’ll see you in class, Dan.” Phil smiled, watching Dan as he hurried out with a smile that was probably a little too fond for him to give to a student and ignored the pounding in his chest.

* * *

 

**26 January 2012**

Despite it feeling as though he really shouldn’t have been the one to get the job, Phil was commissioned to paint the mural he’d put himself up for. He’d worked diligently on every day of Christmas break excluding Christmas Day and the days before and after, and in every bit of his free time after classes started once again. It was worth it though, because a little over a month after he got the project, he was finished, and his artwork was now in a popular place in London where thousands of people were going to see it.

His artwork inspired by Dan. 

Phil didn’t want to admit it, really, but he couldn’t deny it anymore. His design for the mural was based off of Dan, the ways that he made Phil think of everything and nothing all at once when they talked, which was happening more often since Dan had taken it upon himself to spend at least fifteen minutes at Phil’s desk at the end of every class period since the break had ended. Phil didn’t mind for the most part. Dan was interesting and funny, and Phil genuinely enjoyed their conversations, but it was getting harder and harder to remind himself that they weren’t really…  _ friends _ or anything like that. They couldn’t be. Phil was Dan’s professor.

Still, when Dan bounced up to Phil’s desk after class ended that day, there was a smile so wide it would probably start to hurt after a while on Phil’s mouth. “You look happy.”

Dan nodded. “I saw your mural yesterday. It looks amazing! Even better than the painting somehow.” He set his hands on the desk, leaning toward Phil and lowering his voice. “But I might be a little biased, cause I like the artist.”

Phil’s cheeks reddened. They did that a lot around Dan. “Thank you, Daniel.” His voice was a little stiff, like he was trying to make sure it sounded professional. “That’s very kind of you. I worked really hard on it.”

“It shows.” Dan scrunched his face up a little. “Why are you calling me Daniel? Don’t call me Daniel. That’s weird.”

“It’s your name.”

“Technically, but you never call me Daniel. Always Dan. Maybe ‘Just Dan,’ sometimes, but never Daniel.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“There are some first times I want to have with you, Mr. Lester, but that’s not one of them.”

“That’s-“ Phil cut off, cheeks even redder, and grabbed his bag off the chair. “I should go. I have a meeting. And a phone – a call. I need to call someone.”

Dan smirked as he watched Phil stand up and gather the few things he had on the desk, obviously flustered. “Who are you calling?”

“My mum?”

“You don’t sound sure about that.”

“I am.” Phil said, except his voice was still unsure. He looked between Dan and the door, praying he didn’t look as awkward as he felt. “I… I’ll see you next class, then.” With that, he all but ran out the door.

“See you then, Mr. Lester.”

* * *

 

**7 February 2012**

Phil had, for the most part, been avoiding Dan. Ever since that last encounter, Phil was weirdly nervous about being around Dan, like it was dangerous in some way. Maybe it was. Maybe  _ Dan _ was dangerous.

Before class, Phil checked his phone, smiling whenever he saw that he had a text from his friend Bryony. She was meant to be coming to his office after his class was over to model for him. A man had seen his mural and loved it so much that they contacted him, asking for a commission. It was a present for the man’s wife on her birthday, so it had to be done before the beginning of April, which meant Phil needed to get the basic outline of the person in it done in the next two days at least.

Which shouldn’t have been an issue, except Bryony’s text was her apologizing because she wouldn’t be able to come in due to some sort of emergency. Phil didn’t read the whole thing. He just told her it was okay, that he hoped everything got better, and went to start class.

Despite his best attempts to act like his normal, carefree self, Phil knew that he failed whenever Dan walked up to him after class with a frown on his face. Phil didn’t have the energy for this, not when he needed to find another model.

“Are you okay, Mr. Lester?” Dan asked softly. “You seem a bit… off. Stressed.”

“I’m fine.” Phil said simply, though it was obvious that wasn’t true.

“Are you sure? Maybe there’s–“

“Why do you care?” Phil snapped. Maybe it was rude, but he was stressed and annoyed at the situation and he couldn’t understand why Dan seemed so intent on talking about this when Phil was nothing more than his professor. When he looked up and saw the way the light had drained from Dan’s eyes, the hurt in his face, the way his lips weren’t turned up to reveal that dimple that Phil definitely wasn’t fond of, Phil’s heart sank. “I… I’m sorry. That was mean. I’m just stressed, I guess.”

“It’s okay.” Dan said. His face was still sad. It wasn’t okay, Phil knew that, but… well, what could he do about it? “What are you stressed about? Maybe I can help.” 

“Doubt it. I have a commission – I’m supposed to be painting some guy’s wife for her birthday present. My friend Bryony was supposed to come model for me today to make sure I got the proportions and position right, but she can’t do it now, and now I have to figure out how to do it without a model. It’s just a weird position. She’s meant to be, like, draped over a couch and I’m scared it’ll look humanly impossible if I do it without a reference.” Phil sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not a big deal, not really. It’s just gonna be harder. And it’ll take more time.”

Dan seemed to be thinking. After a moment, he looked up at Phil with an overly confident smirk. “If you wanted me to model for you, all you had to do was ask.”

Normally, Phil would blush and tell Dan to bugger off or something, but he wasn’t in the mood for banter right now. “Dan, I’m sorry, but I really need to go. If I don’t have a model, I need to start, like, now to compensate for the difficulty.”

“I was being serious, Mr. Lester.” Dan shrugged a little, and he was suddenly much less confident. He looked nervous, even. “I’ll stand in for your friend. I know I’m not a girl, but a body’s a body, and I’ve got nothing else to do today. Well, I have another lecture, but that ends at one. I’m free after that.”

Phil looked Dan over for a moment, hesitating. “Dan… I’m not sure that’s appropriate. You’re my student.”

“It’s not like you’re asking me to pose naked. Not that I’d be opposed.” Dan gave a teasing wink, and Phil was about to say something about that, but Dan started speaking again before he could. “It’s not weird. I’m just laying on a couch so that you can paint something a little faster. It’s only weird if you make it weird.”

Phil hesitated again. Part of him thought it was inappropriate, because it was  _ Dan _ , but the part of him that didn’t want to be stuck painting for an obscene amount of time was louder, so it was only a moment before his shoulders slumped and he agreed. “Fine. But only because I really need to get this done.” He pursed his lip, glancing at the clock on the wall, and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Meet me in my office after your class. I should have everything set up by then.”

Dan nodded excitedly, a huge grin on his face. “I’ll see you then. Bye, Mr. Lester.”

 

When Dan walked into Phil’s office a little after one, Phil had everything set up. The couch that was normally against the wall was been pulled forward, a few feet from the wall and directly in front of a window. Phil was stood in front of an easel, clipping a picture of a pretty brunette woman to the corner of his easel. “Hey.” Dan said lightly, walking forward and dropping his bag by the couch. “What do you need me to do, then? May as well get started.”

Phil nodded a little, gesturing to the couch. “Lay down, then. I’ll help you figure out how to pose.”

Dan followed directions, and it took an embarrassingly long amount of time to get him in the right pose, because Phil was scared touch him any more than absolutely necessary. “Right. That’s perfect.” He mumbled after at least fifteen minutes and Phil trying to give directions and Dan doing his best to figure out what the hell he meant. It ended with Dan laying back against one of the armrests, a pillow under his back, and one of his feet propped up on the other armrest. His other leg was resting against the back part of the couch, bent to make a little v, and one hand was propped under his head while the other was splayed over his stomach. Phil could admit that Dan looked good without it being weird, he decided. “Now turn your head toward me and we can get started.”

Dan did as Phil asked, then smirked brightly. “Paint me like one of your French girls, Mr. Lester.”

“That’s inappropriate, Daniel.” Phil said, but he was giggling. 

“I thought we decided it was weird when you called me Daniel, Philip.”

“You can’t call me Philip. I’m your professor.”

“Then you can’t call me Daniel.”

“That’s a false equivalency.” Phil was smiling as he picked up his pencil, starting to trace a basic outline of Dan on the couch. He kind of liked the way his name sounded when it was Dan’s voice saying it.

“Can I call you Phil, then?” The twinkle was back in Dan’s eyes. Phil made a promise to himself to never be the one who makes that twinkle disappear again. That wasn’t weird, was it? He was Dan’s professor. He shouldn’t want to make Dan sad.

“No, Dan. You can call me Mr. Lester.” Phil was sure there was a twinkle in his eye, too.

They passed a few hours like that, with easy banter and small talk, and then it quiets down as Phil gets more focused on the painting. Until Dan whines that he’s bored, that is.

“Don’t complain. You volunteered for this.” There was laughter in Phil’s voice. “We can keep talking, if you want. I suppose I have to give you something since you’ve laid there for hours.”

Dan hummed. “How kind of you.” He paused for a moment, watching Phil paint with interest. “Who’s that woman in the picture you’ve got up there? Is she your girlfriend? She’s pretty.” 

Phil laughed. “No. Definitely not. She’s the girl in the painting – my client’s wife.”

“That makes more sense.” Dan said. His eyes widened after a moment. “Wait, that’s not what I meant! Not that, like, you couldn’t get a girlfriend, just that it makes more sense that she’s clipped to your canvas thing.”

Phil let Dan sputter for a moment, laughing softly. “It’s fine, Dan, I understood what you meant.”

There was another moment of quiet, a simple lull in the conversation, before Dan spoke up again.

“It’s your first year teaching, right?”

“Mhm. I’ve given, like, little lessons or tips to friends before, but this is my first time doing it professionally.”

“You’re really good at it. What made you want to become a teacher?”

“Well… I didn’t really  _ want _ to be a teacher. I still don’t, honestly.” Maybe Phil shouldn’t have been telling this to a student, but something about Dan made it easy to open up to him. “I like it and all, but it’s just not my calling. I like painting. I want that to be my job. Just… painting for people. Making art. Creating beautiful things for people to look at.”

Dan looked a little confused. “Why did you take the job, then?”

“I needed it. It’s hard to get your name out there when you’re just starting. I’ve been having trouble coming up with concepts, too. I’ve felt a bit uninspired, I guess.”

There was a pause.

“Mr. Lester, I know I probably don’t actually know you all that well, but it’s really hard to imagine that you could possibly be uninspired.

Phil smiled softly and looked up from the painting, eyes shining with some emotion that he wasn’t ready to name. “Well, it’s been a lot easier to feel inspiration lately.”

“Oh.” Dan’s face started to turn pink. From this angle, Phil could see a small patch of skin on his cheek that was much redder than the others. Suddenly, he felt the overwhelming urge to ditch this commission and just paint that rosey patch.

Phil turned back his work instead. It felt safer than staring at the little blossom on Dan’s cheek. Still, Phil couldn’t stop thinking about how that blossom was prettier than any flower he’d ever seen.

After a few more hours of work, Phil finished the part that he needed Dan for a little before seven o’clock at night. “There. I’ve got the body and the couch done, for the most part. Just shading and the background left.”

“Does that mean I can stand up?”

“Go crazy.”

Dan stood up, letting out a groan and stretching his hands above his head. Phil kept his eyes trained on the painting in front of him, pointedly not looking at the little strip of stomach exposed when Dan lifted his arms. “Can I see it?”

“It’s nowhere near done, but yeah.” Phil leaned back a little, watching as Dan came around and peaked over Phil’s shoulder.

“It’s beautiful.” Dan said with a smile. It was simple and elegant so far. The woman on the couch looked delicate, lively, like she belonged in a work of art. “I can’t believe that was painted from looking at me. I look like a lanky giraffe.”

Phil laughed, but every piece of him wanted to tell Dan how wrong he was. “Thanks. I tried my best.” He started painting again, mostly just to distract himself from Dan. “You can go, if you’d like. I know I kept you here for six hours.”

“Mm, it’s alright, you can pay me by bringing me a caramel macchiato next class period.” Dan bumped Phil’s shoulder lightly. “Can I watch, actually? I like watching you paint. It’s interesting.”

Phil paused. “I… Okay, I guess. I don’t think I’ll be here for much longer, though.”

“That’s fine.”

Phil settled into painting again, acutely aware of Dan’s presence just a few feet behind him, watching his every move. “It’s set in Paris.” He says after a few minutes of silence. “There’s going to be a window behind her and the Eiffel Tower is going to be in it. That’s what her husband wanted.”

“That’s cool. I think it’ll look great.” Phil could almost hear Dan’s smile. “But I think I’d probably think anything you painted was great.”

Phil didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. “Do you want to be a painter? You seem like you’ve got a knack for it.”

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Dan’s voice sounded smaller than Phil had ever heard it before. He was scared to turn around, scared of what he might see on Dan’s face. “I like painting, but it doesn’t feel like it’s  _ mine _ , you know? Like you with teaching, I think. I’m actually in the law program.”

“You want to be a lawyer?” Phil hated how shocked his voice sounded, but he turned and faced Dan regardless, mouth slightly agape. “I’m sorry, that just… that really doesn’t sound like you.”

Dan looked just as small as he had sounded. His eyes were sad and Phil’s heart broke because he doesn’t know what to do to fix it. “I know it doesn’t. Honestly, I don’t want to be one. I just know it pays well and it would make my parents happy.”

It was quiet for a moment. The weight of what Dan had just admitted to hung between them. Everything felt thick and heavy, and Phil’s stomach was twisting because he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug the sadness out of Dan’s eyes. He couldn’t, though. It wasn’t right. So instead, he chose his next words very carefully.

“I think you know that neither of those are good reasons to base your future career on.” He said softly, hoping that his words, his voice, could be the hug he was too scared to give. “You have to find your thing and chase it. Painting is my thing. It’s always made me happier than anything else. If you… if you don’t have something like that, something that you’re willing to risk it for, then… well, nothing’s really worth anything, is it? If you’re not doing something that makes you happy – not your parents or your bank account – then there’s no point to any of this. There must be  _ something _ you love.”

Dan’s eyes were shiny, like he was almost on the verge of tears but was too scared to let himself even get there. “I dunno.” His voice broke. “I don’t think I have a thing.”

“Everybody has a thing.”

“I mean, I’ve always liked modeling, I guess. I used to take pictures of myself and post them on dailybooth. I wanted to be in, like fashion magazines.” Dan sighed, looking down at the ground. “That’s just stupid, though.”

“It’s not.” Phil said firmly, reaching his foot out to nudge Dan’s shin. “Honestly, Dan, modeling suits you.”

It took Phil a moment to realize what he said. “Not in a weird way! I just think you’d make a good model, that’s all.” His cheeks felt hot again and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered why he always ended up like this around Dan.

“It’s alright.” Dan giggled and gave Phil a grin like he knew something Phil didn’t. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll try some actual modelling instead of standing in for a girl who didn’t show up.”

“You could.” Phil said, not shying away from it this time. He took a strange pleasure in the way Dan’s cheeks got red. 

“Thanks.” Dan glanced around the room and cleared his throat. “I should go. I need food. Good luck on your painting.”

Phil smiled as he watched Dan grab his bag and move toward the door. “Goodnight, Dan. Thank you for this. Come to class early on Thursday so I can give you your caramel macchiato.”

Dan grinned. “Will do. Night, Phil.”

“Stop calling me that!”

* * *

 

**15 March 2012**

After Dan helped with the painting, Phil stopped trying to avoid him. Maybe it was a little strange to be friends with a student, but it wasn’t inappropriate. At least, that’s what Phil convinced himself.

Dan had decided that he was going to stop by Phil’s office a few times a week, just to talk. Phil had been hesitant at first but talking to Dan was too much fun for him to find it in himself to care. They clicked somehow, more than Phil had clicked with anyone in a while.

“What’s your favorite onomatopoeia?” Dan asked excitedly, eyes twinkling like they always did when he talked to Phil. They’d somehow started playing twenty questions, and everything they asked was strange and the answers were even stranger and Phil loved it.

“My  _ what _ ?” Phil laughed brightly, covering his mouth. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s a good one! Just tell me your favorite!” Dan was grinning so widely that Phil couldn’t imagine that it didn’t hurt, but Phil was also almost positive that there was a matching grin on his face. “Mine is microwave.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Microwave! It’s my favorite onomatopoeia!”

“Dan, microwave is not an onomatopoeia.”

“Yes, it is!” Dan tried to sound offended, but he couldn’t help giggling because of how hard Phil was laughing. “No, no, listen –  _ micro _ wave!” His voice went into a weird high-pitched tone and he brought a finger up, rotating it as if that somehow helped prove his point.

“No! I can’t even explain to you how wrong you are.”

“Shut up, Phil!”

Phil calmed down a little, but his eyes were watery with laughter and his shoulders were still shaking a little. “How many times have I told you to stop calling me Phil?”

Dan’s eyes sparkled a bit. He looked mischievous. Phil didn’t like it. “Oh, I’m so sorry,  _ sir _ .” Dan smirked, making his voice sound high-pitched and a little whiny and suggestive and  _ way _ too much for a teacher to hear. 

Phil’s throat tightened and his eyes widened. “Piss off.” He cringed a little at how strained his voice sounded. 

Dan definitely noticed, going by the way his smirk widened. “Mm, fine. I have class soon anyway.” Dan bent down to pick his bag up, making his way over to the doorway before pausing to look back at Phil. “See ya later, Mr. Lester.” His voice was somehow just as suggestive as before, and with a wink, he left Phil alone in his office with a red face and a pounding heart.

“Oh, I’m fucked.”

After a few minutes, Phil pulled out his phone, fumbling to call the only number he could think of as he shut the door to his office.

“Hello, child!” Phil smiled when he heard his mum’s voice through the phone.

“Hello, mother,” he answered.

“Is something wrong, Philip?” Kathryn asked after a moment of silence, sounding concerned. Sometimes Phil loved the way she could tell that he was upset from something as simple as the way he said hello.

“You’ve no idea, mum.”

“Tell me about it, child.”

And Phil did. He told her everything, six whole months of things piling up, of Dan flirting with him and him desperately trying to ignore it, to pretend he didn’t like it or even notice it. His mum stayed quiet, listening as he talked and told her about Dan standing in for Bryony and Dan calling him ‘Mr. Lester’ in that voice and winking.

“I dunno what to do, mum.” Phil sighed and flopped back into his chair. “It just feels… gross. I don’t want to be that gross professor who gets fired for having a fling with his student.”

“I love you, sweetheart, and I understand.” There was a pause, like Kath was trying to decide what to say. “But you’re being a tad overdramatic, don’t you think? This boy – Dan – he won’t always be your student, will he?”

“I mean… I guess not, but it feels wrong.” Phil mumbled, covering his face with his hands because it was embarrassing. All of this was embarrassing. “It feels like I’m taking advantage of my student. I don’t want to take advantage of him.”

“Sweetheart, I think the fact that you even said that proves that you aren’t taking advantage of him.”

“What do I do, mum?”

“I know you better than anybody, Philip. I know you. You’re not malicious, none of this is.” Phil heard his mum pause, could nearly hear her hesitating. “I can’t tell you what to do, love. That’s your decision. But I don’t think you should close yourself off to this. Not just because of your job. Obviously you can’t do anything now, but… Maybe someday. If that’s what you want.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I always am, child.” Phil laughed a little, and he heard the smile in his mum’s voice when she spoke again. “When are you going to come visit again? I miss you. Your father and I are old, you know. We can’t wait forever.”

“I’ll be there soon, promise. I miss you, too.” Phil sighed again, pushing his hair off his forehead. “Thank you, mum. I’ll call you again soon. I love you.”

“I love you too. Good luck, deary.”

* * *

 

**27 March 2012**

Since the conversation with his mum, Phil had fully submerged himself in painting in an attempt to distract himself from whatever he was feeling. Dan still came to his office a lot, still talked and joked with Phil, sometimes just watched him paint, sometimes flirted with Phil with a reckless sort of abandon. Phil did his best to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t happening, because it didn’t even mean that Dan liked him, did it? Dan could very well just be a massive flirt.

With all the work he’d spent painting, it didn’t take Phil much time to finish the commision Dan had posed for. He’d just finished putting on the final touches and was cleaning his brushes when he heard someone stumble into his office, followed almost immediately by a voice that was unmistakably Dan’s.

“Phil?”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” Phil asked with a teasing smile as he turned to look at Dan. It was raining out and Dan’s hair was wet, which shouldn’t have been interesting, except it was starting to curl around his face - that was new. Phil was about to comment on it, but then his gaze fell to Dan’s face and the smile immediately disappeared from his lips. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Dan looked scared and confused and there were tears in his eyes that Phil wanted so badly to wipe away. “I’m fine.” He said unconvincingly, hesitating for a second before speaking again. “Actually, I’m not. I’m really, really not.”

“C’mon, sit down, we can talk. Do you want some tea or anything?”

Dan sat on the couch, shaking his head and waiting for Phil to sit before starting to talk. “It’s just… it’s my fucking law class. I hate it. I hate law and I hate the stupid classes and I don’t want to do it, Phil, I don’t want to be a lawyer. I never did.” He wiped at his eyes and stared at the ground, as if he was hiding from Phil. “I don’t want to quit though, because if I quit then I’m a college drop out and my parents will be even more disappointed in me than they already are and I don’t want them to hate me, but I’m so fucking tired of uni and I’m just not good enough for it.” He cut off in a sob, covering his mouth and bending over. 

Phil’s heart broke. He looked so sad, so distraught, and Phil wanted so badly to scoop Dan up in his arms and protect him from the world, to make sure he knew that he was more than good enough. So he did just that. Phil bent down and wrapped his arms around Dan, pulling him close and shushing him softly. “It’s alright, Dan. You don’t have to be a lawyer. You don’t have to get a degree. That stuff’s not important.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve got a masters. I can’t even get through fucking undergrad courses.”

“It doesn't  _ matter _ , though. That’s the point.” Phil rubbed Dan’s back in slow circles, hoping to calm him down. “Your degree or lack thereof isn’t what decides how good you are, Dan. You decide that. You make your life good by choosing what you love.”

Dan just kept sobbing, and Phil had no idea what to do, so he just held Dan and hoped with everything that he had that it would make Dan feel better. 

“I already feel so unimportant, Phil.” Dan buried his face in Phil’s shoulder, letting out another sob. “I’ll be even less important if I can’t do this. But I-I  _ can’t _ , Phil. I just can’t. I want to cry every time I think about even going to any class other than yours.”

“You’re not unimportant, Dan.” Phil pulled back enough to look down at Dan. “You’re the most important person I’ve ever met. You’re amazing. You can do amazing things, too. Just not as a lawyer. And that’s  _ fine _ . That’s more than fine.”

Dan didn’t respond. He only looked up at Phil, eyes wide and full of leftover tears. He looked up at Phil as if Phil was the person who strung up the stars in the sky. It would’ve made Phil’s heart flutter in any other situation. “I… thank you.” Dan’s voice was hushed, secretive, like he was scared someone else might hear. He looked scared, almost. His eyes flitted around the room for a moment before settling on the painting. “Is it finished?”

Phil reluctantly dropped his arms from around Dan, nodding. “Yeah, I just finished. D’you wanna see?” Once Dan nodded, Phil stood and led him over to the easel. It was just as elegant as it had been before, but there were added bits of vibrancy, colors that popped and made the painting look alive.

Dan was entranced. “It’s gorgeous.” He said after staring at it for a minute. Phil thanked him, and there was another bit of silence before Dan spoke again. “I’m going to drop out.” His voice was low and numb, everything that the Dan Phil had come to know was not.

“I think that’s probably a good idea.”

Dan sighed and wiped his eyes once more. “I’m sorry for dropping in on you like this. I shouldn’t have.” He looked up at Phil again, eyes soft, and gave him a small but sincere smile. “Thank you.”

Phil didn’t know what to say. No words felt like they could convey how Dan didn’t need to feel any gratitude, not over this. Nothing he could think of came close to expressing how much Phil cared about him, how badly he wanted Dan to be happy. So he didn’t say anything. He just watched with wide eyes and bated breath as Dan walked out of his office, feeling as if he hadn’t done anywhere near enough for the pretty boy with brown eyes and hair that was apparently secretly curly who fell into his classroom five minutes late and almost immediately sealed his place in Phil’s heart.

* * *

 

**4 April 2012**

A knock on Phil’s door made his head snap up, shifting his attention from the papers in front of him to the doorway. Dan stood there, looking sad, but not as sad as he had the last time Phil saw him, when he decided to drop out of school.

“I went to the administration office today.” Dan’s voice was still sad and still dry, and Phil hated the way it sounded. “I turned in my withdrawal papers. It’ll be official once they send me a confirmation letter.” 

“Oh.” That’s all Phil can say for a moment. Then it sunk in and Phil stood up, making his way over to Dan and hugged him tightly. “That’s… I’m proud of you. I know it’s hard and this sucks, but it’s what you need.”

Dan hugged back this time, arms circled tightly around Phil’s neck. “You know, this means I won’t be in your class anymore.”

“I know.” Phil said quietly. He wanted to say more, so badly, but he didn’t know what. He wanted Dan in his class - he wanted Dan in his life. It didn’t feel right to say that, though, not when Dan was in his arms and on the verge of tears. Dan pulled away after a moment, and Phil looked at him with eyes full of different emotions. Dan’s eyes seemed to mirror Phil’s. 

Dan opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. “I, um… I suppose this is it, then. I’ll see you around, maybe.” He scratched the back of his neck. It was obvious he wanted to say more but, like Phil, he was scared. “Bye, then, Phil. I’ll miss your class.”

Dan gave a pained smile, and Phil could swear he saw Dan’s eyes welling up with tears again, but he was out the door before Phil could even process what happened. “Bye, Dan.” He said after a minute, even though Dan was too far away to hear.

* * *

 

**14 September 2013**

“I can’t believe you dragged me out.” Phil grumbled without any real malice, bumping shoulders with PJ.

“Well, honestly Phil, I doubt you’ve been out since the last time I forced you to. You need to socialize. It’s not healthy to stay cooped up in your studio every day. How are you supposed to paint life experiences if you never experience anything?” PJ grinned and bumped against Phil in return, reaching out to ruffle Phil’s hair. “You’ll thank me once I get a few drinks in you.”

PJ, one of Phil’s closest friends from uni, had decided it was time for his annual ‘make Phil miserable’ trip. Every once in a while, he took upon himself to drag Phil out of his house and to a pub. Phil was always reluctant, but he always had fun, even if he refused to admit it. 

This past year had been rough for Phil, despite how amazing it was. After his second year teaching at Middlesex, Phil resigned. His art career had finally taken off, he’d gotten over his artistic block for the most part, and he was even making enough money to rent a flat with his own studio in it. Something was still missing, though. It never felt like it was enough. Nothing felt like his masterpiece.

He thought about Dan a lot. He’d talked to PJ about it earlier, which was when PJ decided they were going to go drinking. Maybe it was dumb that he seemed to be stuck on Dan, because Dan was just his student, but he felt a connection there. Phil hadn’t felt a connection like that with anybody before, and he hadn’t felt it with anybody since. PJ said he looked too sad, and then grabbed his coat and Phil’s hand and pulled him out of the flat.

Three drinks in, Phil was feeling better. His body felt warm and loose, and his mind was peacefully clear as he talked and laughed with PJ.

“I’m going to get another drink, Peej.” Phil stood from the table he and PJ were sat at, pushing through the small crowd until he reached the bar. He was about to order, but his eyes instinctively flitted around the room for a moment before coming to settle on a tall man with dark brown hair. He looked familiar, and Phil’s brain was trying its best to work through the haze of alcohol to place him. His mouth seemed to do it before his mind, though. “Dan?”

The man’s head snapped up, and Phil was immediately met with those chocolate honey eyes that he’d stared into so much a year ago. “Mr. Lester?”

Phil couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Really? More than a year after you’ve stopped taking my class and  _ now  _ you decide to call me Mr. Lester?”

“I think it was a shock reaction.” Dan laughed, and the sound melted Phil’s heart. It had been far too long since he heard that sound.

Phil looked Dan over quickly as Dan moved closer. He looked good. Really,  _ really  _ good. He’d gotten taller, a little taller than Phil, and his frame had filled out a bit - his shoulders were broader.  _ He  _ was broader. He’d gotten a haircut, too, all shaved sides and flat-ironed fringe. The most striking, to Phil, was his clothes. He really looked like a model, more than he had when Phil saw him, which should’ve been impossible. He was wearing tight, dark jeans and weird shoes with zippers on them that Phil didn’t understand but still liked. His shirt was weird. It was tan-ish print on a black background and it looked like a handkerchief, like something that should never be worn anywhere but on a runway, and yet Dan somehow made it work. Suddenly, Phil felt way underdressed in his simple knit jumper and his clunky glasses because he was too lazy to put his contacts in.

“Mm, I don’t mind all that much, but you can call me Phil now. Not that it stopped you before.”

“I guess I’ll just have to buy you a drink to make up for it, won’t I?”

“I think you will.” Phil grinned as Dan ordered them both drinks, happily accepting his when it was held out. “I guess I’ll have to forgive you. I have no other choice now.”

“You do. You could tell me to piss off, but I think you like me just a little too much for that.” Dan grinned back at Phil and took a seat at the bar, gesturing for Phil to do the same. He did. “How have you been? Still teaching Intro to Painting?”

“No, actually. Last year was my last one. I’ve been focusing on painting instead. Not to brag, but I’m doing rather well.” Phil smiled at Dan, leaning into him as though he couldn’t help it, because he couldn’t. It had always felt as if there was some sort of gravitational pull between them, some force that wanted them to be as close as possible, and Phil was powerless to fight it after he had some alcohol in his system. “What about you? Did you ever go after modeling?”

“I did, actually. I’ve had a few jobs here and there. Nothing big yet, but I’m getting my name out.” Dan smiled down at the counter. “I made a YouTube channel, too. It’s gotten quite popular. I actually really like it.”

“I’m glad.” Phil reached over, resting a hand on Dan’s arm and pausing until Dan looked up at him again. “I told you that you were making the right decision. You seem so much happier now.”

“I am. There was… a lot happening that year.” Dan took a long sip of his drink, then set the glass on the counter top and leaned in to bump his shoulder against Phil’s. “You made it better, though. It was always fun, being in your class or your office. Don’t tell anyone, but I might’ve had a bit of a crush on you.”

Phil tried to ignore the way that sentence made his heart pound all over again. “Oh, I  _ never  _ would’ve guessed.” He said sarcastically, a smirk finding its way onto his face.

“Why do you say it like that?” Dan asked with as small pout.

“Dan.. You were pretty obvious about it, if we’re being honest.” Phil laughed, resting his chin on his hand as he smiled at Dan. “You flirted with me all the time. Do you not remember that time you called me ‘Mr. Lester’ in a bloody porn-star voice and winked at me?”

“Subtlety has never been my strong suit.” Dan laughed and leaned into Phil, eyes following the way that Phil’s tongue darted out between his teeth when he laughed. “I mostly just wanted to watch you, though. You looked so cute when I made you all flustered.”

“That’s just cruel.”

“So you’re not denying it, then. I made you flustered.”

“Why would I deny it? Subtlety isn’t my strong suit, either.”

“So you had a crush on me, too, then?”

“Had implies that it’s stopped.”

“That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”

“Is this?” There wasn’t much distance left between them, but Phil leaned in nonetheless, pressing his lips to Dan’s in a gentle kiss.

“Mm, I dunno. You’ll have to try again.” Dan gave a mischievous grin, eyes sparkling. “It was inconclusive.”

“I couldn’t tell you this before because I was your professor, but you’re a prick.” Phil leaned in again eagerly, kissing Dan once more, deeper and longer this time. Dan’s lips were chapped and his mouth tasted of sugar and alcohol and Phil was intoxicated with it. He could’ve stayed like that for hours, lips pressed to Dan’s, ignoring the rest of the world, but it only lasted a few seconds before someone cleared their throat just a few feet away from them.

“Well, I was worried you’d gotten lost on the way to the bar somehow, but I see you’ve found what you’re looking for.” PJ said with a teasing tone.

“Oh! Peej, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. I just.. I saw Dan and I got distracted-”

PJ raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Spare me the details. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll be going then. You two can… continue.”

As PJ walked away, Phil turned back to Dan, face bright red. “So… on that note, d’you wanna come back to mine?”

Dan’s eyes glinted. “Oh, Mr. Lester, I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for two years. Fuck yes, I want to go back to yours.”

* * *

 

**6 November 2018**

“Phil,” Dan whined, dragging the ‘i’ out until it sounded closer to ‘Phiiiiw’ than anything else. “Hurry up. I’m bored.”

“Stop complaining, this is literally your job.” Phil chuckled as he dragged the paintbrush over his canvas, trying to recreate the scene in front of him. They were sat in the living room of their flat, Dan artfully poised on the windowsill wearing nothing but one of his ridiculously overpriced designer shirts half-buttoned and pushed down his shoulders to reveal his chest. “It’s hard to get the way you look in the sunset. I feel like it’s not  _ good  _ enough but I don’t know how to make it better. I think it’s your stupid bloody curls.”

Dan’s cheeks heated up and Phil smirked, making a point of painting the little rosey patch that always appeared when he did. “You’re the one who pressured me into ditching the flat iron for years. Don’t blame me now that I’ve embraced your peer pressure.” 

“I love the way it looks, I just hate painting it.”

Dan turned his head to look at Phil, a soft smile on his face. Phil’s hair was pushed back in a messy quiff, his brows were pulled together in concentration, and his tongue was poking out between his teeth. “Hey Phil?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

Phil looked up from the canvas, his face softening and a smile spreading over his cheeks. “I love you, too.” He sighed and set his paintbrush down, pushing himself up and making his way toward Dan. “Fine. We can stop here for now. But you have to make tea.”

“Deal.” Dan grinned and leaned up to press a quick kiss to Phil’s lips before running to the kitchen. Phil smiled after him with a happy sigh, looking around their shared flat with wonder. His eyes landed one of the paintings hanging on their wall - a man made of stardust laying in a field, looking up at the universe above him. Phil didn’t know it at the time, but that was the first painting of his that Dan inspired. Dan was his spaceman, his beautiful work of art that Phil wanted to spend the rest of his life recreating in every possible way.

As he sat down on their sofa, looking around at the rest of his paintings on the wall, all inspired by Dan in one way or another, Phil realized how lucky they were. Without Dan, Phil may never have regained his inspiration and passion, his love for painting. Without Phil, Dan might have never dropped out. He might have never become a successful model, might have never started the YouTube channel that would grow to have millions of subscribers.

As Dan walked back in, looking absolutely ethereal doing something as simple as carrying mugs full of tea Phil was sure of it.

“What are you thinking about?” Dan asked with a sweet smile, holding Phil’s cup out before sitting next to him.

Phil took the cup, eyes shining. “You.”

This was his masterpiece.

Dan, their love, the life they were continuing to build with each other - that was Phil’s masterpiece. And it was the most beautiful masterpiece in the entire fucking world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So what you’re saying is…” Dan pulled away from Phil, a playful smile on his lips. “I’m the best model you’ve ever had?”  
> “I guess that is what I’m saying, yeah.” Phil chuckled softly as he watched Dan walk through the paintings in the room. He couldn’t help thinking about how Dan looked surrounded by all the paintings, like he belonged there, in some sort of museum. Phil’s mind wandered to the first class he taught, when he helped Dan with shading, when he first looked at Dan and realized how pretty he actually was. He remembered thinking Dan’s hair framed his face perfectly, that it made him look like a work of art. Dan’s hair was different now; it was much shorter and didn’t really frame his face anymore, but he still looked like a work of art. Phil didn’t think it was possible for him to not look perfect, though, no matter what his hair looked like. “But mostly, I think you just make everything better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi at danhedonia.tumblr.com!

14 September 2013

 

Phil fumbled with his keys as he tried to unlock to door to his flat, giggling and pushing Dan away whenever he tugged at Phil’s shirt. “Stop. I can’t focus when you do that.”

“How much focus do you need to unlock a door?” 

Maybe Dan had a point, but Phil’s head was fuzzy with alcohol and his body was shaking with excitement. “A lot. Now stop distracting me.” Finally, Phil got the door unlocked and stumbled inside, pulling Dan along with him before shutting it behind them. “See? I told you so!”

“I don’t think you struggling to open your door is something to sound so triumphant about.” Dan immediately pushed past Phil to explore the flat. The sitting room was rather large, with a few of Phil’s own paintings hanging on the wall and some others, ones that looked recently finished or were still in progress, on the floor leaning against the wall and on the multitude of easels that were spread out across the room. A small sofa was stationed in the middle and an entertainment center housing a television and what seemed like thousands of movies was in front of it, pushed against the wall. Dan looked around at the completed paintings and the works in progress with wonder. “You’re painting a lot, hm?”

Phil nodded. “That’s my job. I usually keep them in the studio, but… well, if I’m being honest, I’ve been watching Marvel movies while painting a lot lately.” He moved toward Dan, wrapping his arms loosely around his waist and burying his nose in the short, brown hair at the base of Dan’s neck. It was a strange sensation, giving Dan this sort of affection. He’d wanted to do something like this for so long, even when he was trying so hard not to let himself, when he was restricted to longing gazes and sweet words masked with sarcasm. He’d almost forgotten how intense his feelings about Dan were after not seeing him for so long, but now that there wasn’t any reason for Phil to hide them, the feelings were back with a vengeance. “None of them are as good as the one you modeled for, though. Even the ones inspired by Chris Evans.”

“So what you’re saying is…” Dan pulled away from Phil, a playful smile on his lips. “I’m the best model you’ve ever had?”

“I guess that is what I’m saying, yeah.” Phil chuckled softly as he watched Dan walk through the paintings in the room. He couldn’t help thinking about how Dan looked surrounded by all the paintings, like he belonged there, in some sort of museum. Phil’s mind wandered to the first class he taught, when he helped Dan with shading, when he first looked at Dan and realized how pretty he actually was. He remembered thinking Dan’s hair framed his face perfectly, that it made him look like a work of art. Dan’s hair was different now; it was much shorter and didn’t really frame his face anymore, but he still looked like a work of art. Phil didn’t think it was possible for him to not look perfect, though, no matter what his hair looked like. “But mostly, I think you just make everything better.”

“Mm. That’s quite the compliment. You’re essentially saying that I’m a better model than Chris Evans.” The only light in Phil’s flat was the moonlight shining through the windows, so Phil almost missed the way that Dan’s cheeks reddened and the rosey patch, already present from the effects of the alcohol they’d drank, darkened. It made his heart flutter. Dan was right. Phil was ready to shout to the world that Dan was the best model to ever exist, the model to end all models. “So what you’re really saying is that you want to paint me again?”

Dan may have been teasing, but he was right. Phil wanted nothing more than to paint Dan again and again and again until he’d captured the beauty that seemed to radiate from every inch of his skin. “You’ve no idea.”

“Then do it.” Dan said, almost as if he was challenging Phil. “Paint me like one of your French girls, Mr. Lester.” Dan’s voice was quiet, so quiet that Phil almost couldn’t hear it from across the room, and a shiver ran through Phil’s back. He had  _ that  _ voice again, the one he’d used in Phil’s office when he almost moaned Phil’s name, the one that had Phil so nervous and confused that he had to call his mother. 

Phil watched helplessly as Dan stepped forward slowly and shrugged his jacket off. It was dark and Dan was almost invisible among the paintings and Phil couldn’t breathe as Dan’s hands slid up to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“This is how the French girls were, right? It’s been a while since I saw  _ The Titanic _ , but…” Dan disappeared behind a painting. There was a light thud and then he reappeared on the other side of it, this time without a shirt. “They were naked, yeah? And Rose made a scene of stripping off her robe for Jack, didn’t she?”

“I think so, yeah.” Phil’s throat felt dry.

“Too bad I don’t have a robe.”

“A real shame.” 

That wasn’t true, though, Phil decided as he watched Dan disappear behind another, larger painting. When he reappeared, his shoes and socks were gone and his jeans were unbuttoned. “I guess we’ll just have to make do.” He turned around, making a point of looking over his shoulder to watch Phil watch him, and slowly shimmied his hips until his jeans hit the floor. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Phil didn’t answer. He didn’t think he could, even if he tried. His voice would probably come out as nothing but a desperate breath, maybe even a whine, and Phil was pretty sure that Dan knew he wouldn’t mind.

Dan stepped out of the jeans, leaving them in a bundle on the floor, and moved closer to Phil.

Phil watched with wide eyes, his heart pounding so hard that he was sure the entire city of London could hear it as loudly as he could. In that moment, he was absolutely entranced with everything about Dan, lit in the pale blue moonlight with nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs on, sauntering toward Phil’s couch with those beautiful brown eyes locked on to Phil as if he were the only thing that had ever mattered. 

It was like something straight out of Phil’s wet dreams. Like Dan had somehow managed to condense every single wet dream that Phil had had since he was a teenager into this one moment - and that was a good way to describe Dan, too, wasn’t it?  He was everything Phil had dreamed of and even more. His personality, his face, the way he talked to Phil, he was all of the things Phil had ever hoped for in his imaginary dream partner. 

“Do you want to paint me like this, Phil?” Dan’s voice was impossibly deafening for a whisper. He sat down on the couch, laying back as he hooked his thumbs into his pants and tugged them down just a little, enough to make Phil’s mouth water in anticipation. Phil made a mental note to thank every god he could think of the next day because, really, this man couldn’t have been real and  _ undressing himself on Phil’s couch _ unless divine intervention was a thing and whatever deity possessed it had decided to bless Phil. 

There he was, though, effectively affirming Phil’s belief in some higher power by slowly pushing his underwear down until they fell to the floor. His eyes were trained on Phil’s still, waiting for an answer. 

“I want to paint you in every way possible.” Phil said breathlessly, stepping toward Dan like he couldn’t help it, stumbling over his own feet to follow the invisible pull that wanted him to be as close to Dan as possible if they were so much as in the same room. “But not now. I don’t really wanna paint anything right now.”

“What do you wanna do, then?” There was a smirk on Dan’s lips and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He sat up in a way that seemed impossibly artsy, a way that couldn’t possibly be comfortable but showed off his body like he was just  _ daring  _ Phil to touch him.

Phil paused for a moment, so close the couch that held what he’d wanted for so long that it made his head spin. The tension in the air felt stifling, almost like humidity. Two entire years worth of tension, all leading up to this moment. It was so much, so  _ suffocating _ , but Phil wanted to drag it out, to let it build up until it was unbearable.

When Phil finally spoke, it was so soft that he wasn’t sure Dan would even hear him, but it cut through the tension like a knife. “You.”

Dan surged up to press his lips to Phil’s for the third time that night. In moments, he was off the couch and pressed against Phil with his arms flung around Phil’s neck, traveling down to his back and then up into his hair and then to any bit of Phil that he could reach. Phil’s hands did the same, though, mapping out the bare skin of Dan’s back and his sides, tracing over the little bump of the muffin top on his hips and the dimple on the small of his back, until Dan was pulling back to pant against Phil’s lips.

 

“Take me to your room.” Dan said breathily, although it still sounded like a demand. There was a lot of demanding with Dan. He demanded Phil’s attention when they first met, demanded Phil’s friendship, eventually demanded Phil’s love - maybe it was too soon to call it that, but Phil didn’t care, not when Dan was looking at him with eyes like  _ that  _ and telling Phil to take him to bed.

Phil didn’t say anything. He just pulled away and grabbed Dan’s hand, all but dragging him up the stairs and into Phil’s bedroom. Dan didn’t pause to look around like he had in the living room. Instead, he pulled Phil close and tugged the blue jumper he was wearing off, tossing it on the floor without a care. Phil almost said something in protest because that was his favorite jumper, but then Dan’s lips were tracing down his neck and Phil suddenly couldn’t think of anything else to care out.

Dan’s kisses were hot and wet along Phil’s throat, enough to make Phil’s cock twitch in his jeans. They moved down and down, pausing only to suck lightly on the skin over Phil’s pulse points just long enough to make him feel shakey before moving on again, until they reached Phil’s nipple. That was when Dan looked up at Phil with a questioning look and poked his tongue out, giving an experimental kitten lick to the little pink nub.

Phil gasped and then moaned. One of his hands shot up to tangle in Dan’s hair. He was pretty sure he could feel his smirk as Dan made a show of closing his lips around Phil’s nipple and alternating between little licks and sucks and even grazing it with his teeth at one point, which had Phil repeating Dan’s name like some sort of Gregorian Chant until he moved on to repeat the process on Phil’s other nipple.

Phil almost whined at the loss of sensation when Dan disappeared from his chest, but he wasn’t quite far gone enough for that, so instead he just dropped his head against the wall and let himself feel as Dan’s mouth moved over his body once again. He lost himself in the sensation of  _ Dan _ , but when he felt Dan’s fingers on his hips and Dan’s nose on the skin right above his trousers, Phil’s eyes flew open again.

Dan hummed softly as he slid his hands up to undo Phil’s jeans and then tugged them down, quickly followed by Phil’s boxers. He raked his eyes over Phil’s newly revealed form. “Can I suck you off?” He asked after a moment, eyes coming to rest on Phil’s cock that was already leaking despite having not been properly touched.

_ What a stupid question _ , Phil thought to himself. As if he’d ever say no. He gave a nod in reply, unsure if Dan could see it but unwilling to speak because he was pretty sure his voice would break. Dan seemed to get the idea, though, because suddenly he was pushing Phil to sit down on the bed and leaning forward to wrap his hand around Phil’s base, then licking a long, slow,  _ torturous  _ strip up to side while keeping eye contact with Phil. 

If someone were to ask Phil what he thought heaven would be like, his first thought would be that it would be like the way it felt when Dan’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock and sank down slowly, never looking away, until he’d taken as much as he could. Nothing in Phil’s brain could comprehend a reality where anything was better than watching Dan’s eyes flutter shut as he bobbed his head slowly, like he wanted to savor the experience, or the way it felt when Dan moaned softly with Phil still in his mouth. If heaven was real, it would definitely feel like that.

After a few moments, though, Phil couldn’t take it anymore. He was gonna come, and he wanted to so bad, but not yet - this moment two fucking years in the making was not going to end this quickly if Phil had literally anything to say about it. “Dan,” Phil choked out with half a moan, half-heartedly tugging at Dan’s hair to pull him off.

Dan did so with a satisfying little ‘pop’ sound. He looked up at Phil once again, all wide-eyes and messy hair and pretty red lips covered in spit. “Something wrong?”

It took Phil a moment to process that something had been said, because Dan was just too pretty. “No.” His voice was soft as he pulled Dan to his feet and pressed their lips together. “Just don’t wanna finish yet.”   
Phil stood up again, pulling Dan with him, and pressed their lips together. He could taste himself on Dan’s lips, could feel the backed up together until Dan’s knees hit the bed and he fell backwards. Watching him there, Phil couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow, Dan managed to look incredibly out of place among the bright colors of Phil’s duvet but also like he belonged exactly there, nestled into Phil’s world as if it had been built around him.

Dan bit his lip as he watched Phil standing at the foot of the bed and looking over him. He was taking Dan in because the lighting was better in this room and he could finally see every curve and crevice, every hard plane and blemish that was technically an ‘imperfection,’ but made up a part of the most perfect thing Phil had ever seen. Dan was smooth and bumpy and beautiful, with light freckles and a pudgy tummy and that stupid lovely rosey patch on his cheek that was begging to be painted in pretty pastels. Phil wanted to take a whole day out of his life just to map out Dan’s body with his mouth, and another to do the same thing with a brush on a canvas.

Instead, Phil leaned down until he was on top of Dan, arms on either side of his head. He pressed their lips together once more, this time full of the  _ want  _ he’d felt for so long, full of every time Phil had made a joke and his heart skipped a beat at the smile on Dan’s face, of every time Dan had said something flirty and undeniably sexual and Phil had to pretend that it just didn’t happen. It was full of the desperation and helplessness he’d felt when Dan left his office after dropping out of uni, the longing he’d felt since that day, when he thought he might never see Dan again.

It was full of the relief and joy and  _ hope  _ he’d felt when he saw Dan again at the bar, looking somehow even more like Phil’s perfect man than he had when they first met.

“Phil,” Dan moaned as Phil kissed down to his neck. “Please, Phil…”

“Please what?” Phil smirked, then made a point of sucking a dark hickey onto the base of Dan’s neck.

“Fucking  _ do  _ something.”

Dan’s voice was almost a whine. Phil thought he might come on the spot if Dan made another sound like that.

Phil’s lips were on Dan’s again, desperate to be as close to him as possible. There were hands everywhere, on Phil’s arms and back and Dan’s hips and thighs, trying to get to as much skin as possible, and it felt like seconds before they were both completely naked and Phil was sat against the headboard with Dan straddling his lap and kissing him like it was all that mattered. Maybe it was, really.

Phil gave a relaxed sigh when he felt those pretty chapped lips moving down his neck again.

“You look so fucking good in glasses, Phil.” Dan mumbled between kisses, nipping gently at the skin. “You should wear them all the time. Every time you wore them in class I couldn’t focus.”

Phil let out a soft moan and reached up to tangle his fingers in Dan’s hair. He only felt silly about still having his glasses on for a moment, because then Dan’s tongue was against his collarbones and he couldn’t be bothered to think about anything else. “So I look bad without them?”

“Mm, that’s definitely not what I said.”

“‘S what it sounded like.”

“Shut up.” Dan pulled back and looked up at Phil with a soft smile. “I used to dream about you in class,you know. You’d walk in wearing those stupid glasses and I’d immediately start thinking about how much I wanted to just.. I dunno. I couldn’t focus on your lectures when you had these on.”

Phil’s cheeks were red, and he scrunched his face up a little as Dan’s fingers moved up to trace his glasses. “I thought you always paid attention to my lectures.”

“I paid attention to you. Not necessarily what you were saying.” Dan giggled as Phil leaned in to kiss his neck, absently tilting his head to the side to give Phil more room. “Sometimes I was too busy thinking about you taking me back to your office. Or your bedroom, sometimes. Didn’t think it’d take two years and a fucking pub for you to finally get on with it.”

“Shut up.” Phil laughed and nipped at Dan’s skin playfully before pulling back to smile up at him. “I was being  _ responsible _ , though I’m sure you wouldn’t understand that concept.”

Dan was always beautiful and Phil always recognized that, but he was properly struck with just how beautiful Dan really was in that moment. His lips were pink and puffy still, his cheeks red and rounded with the smile on his lips.He was gazing up at Phil with those beautiful eyes that looked nearly black in the dark lighting, but in the most inviting way possible. That was a pretty good description of Dan, actually - he was dark, from his eyes to the jokes he made about his ‘black soul’ to his eyes to his wardrobe to the sadness that he felt sometimes, the sadness Phil could see in his eyes and the way his dimples disappeared from his cheeks, the sadness Phil was confronted with that day in his office when Dan cried over school. It wasn’t intimidating, though, not in the ways it should’ve been. It wasn’t depressing - not to Phil, at least. To him it was welcoming somehow, like a perfect match to the brightness in Phil’s eyes and wardrobe and paintings and life. It was balancing. It was like home.

“Think you should know by this point that I never shut up. Not without a reason, at least.” The skin on Dan’s cheeks scrunched up in a grin, and Phil could feel his heart flutter at the sight of the cute little dimples popping up again. 

“Shut  _ up _ .” Phil said again, except this time he moved forward to press his lips to Dan’s again. It wasn’t like he actually wanted Dan to shut up - he just really,  _ really  _ wanted to kiss that stupid, dopey grin that was curled on those pretty lips, and now that he finally could, he wasn’t sure he could muster up the strength to stop himself even if he tried.

The kiss heated up quickly - that seemed to be something of a pattern for them, but Phil wasn’t going to complain. Not when it resulted in Dan, naked and in his lap with his lips pressed to Phil’s, grinding against him while making these little noises against his mouth that were slowly driving Phil mad.

“Phil,” Dan’s breath ghosted over Phil’s lips and sent a shiver down his back. “ _ Touch me _ .”

It was a demand. There was no room for Phil to question it, and he wouldn’t have tried to counter it even if there had been. He would’ve given Dan anything he wanted in that moment. He didn’t have it in him to deny anything Dan asked of him, not anymore, not without artificial titles and the fear of taking advantage of a vulnerable young man holding him back.

So he reached between them and did as Dan commanded, relishing in the sounds that Dan was making because  _ Phil made them happen _ , and before he knew it they were both naked in Phil’s bed, covered in sweat and panting with the exhilaration of years worth of tension finally released. 

 

* * *

 

Phil wasn’t sure when he fell asleep exactly, but when he woke up, it was light outside, his duvet was gone, and he was freezing. He groaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut as he grabbed blindly for something to cover up with, but was met with only a disgruntled huff and a duvet-covered body pressing against his. He opened his eyes slowly, carefully, with only a little bit of fear at what he might find next to him. 

It only took a moment for him to realize how completely unwarranted that fear was when he was met with soft, curly brown hair and the sleeping, freckle-covered face of what Phil was sure had to be an angel.

“Dan,” He said softly, tugging at the duvet. “It’s freezing. Give me some.”

Dan let out another huff, but loosened his grip on the blanket just enough to let Phil pull some over himself. 

“Thank you.” Phil giggled. Dan didn’t actually respond, only pressed closer to Phil and used their new position under the duvet together to wrap himself around Phil as much as physically possible. His head found its way to the crook of Phil’s neck, nuzzling in sleepily as if it was the most comfortable pillow in the world. 

Phil wrapped his arms around Dan in return, and they laid there like that for a while, just entwined in each other. And then Dan sat up with a groan, glaring at Phil with sleepy eyes. “You woke me up and now I can’t go back to sleep.”

“To be fair, you woke me up first.”   
“How?”

“You stole the  _ entire _ duvet!”

Dan paused for a moment. “Alright, fair point.” He laughed a little and dropped back down onto Phil’s chest, this time resting his head on his chin so that they could look at each other. “So, what are we gonna do today?”   
Before Phil could even think of a response, Dan’s face dropped and his cheeks turned red. “I mean, if you want to hang out. I didn’t mean to assume.” He turned his head a little, just barely hiding from Phil. “I get if not. I mean, people do, like, one-night things all the time. I totally-”

Phil cut Dan off. He couldn’t help it. He’d been watching with an amused smile the whole time because it was so Dan - the Dan he’d known, at least. With the new clothes and hair style and height and everything, it felt a little bit like a completely new person. But this little freakout, the fear that maybe Phil didn’t actually like him even though they’d spent the previous night telling each other just how infatuated they were… It screamed ‘I’m the same scared boy who tried to flirt with you every day but nearly pissed myself when you so much as smiled back’.

So, he cut Dan off. With his lips. “Dan,” He said softly, smile still ghosting on his lips as he nudged his nose against Dan’s. “Will you go on a date with me? Today?”

Phil could feel Dan’s smile against his lips. It was huge.

“Thought you’d never fucking ask, Mr. Lester.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! if you liked it, please go share/give some love on tumbrl: https://danhedonia.tumblr.com/post/186025668075/eloquent-graffiti-chapter-2

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> The title comes from a lyric to “The Trapeze Swinger” by Iron & Wine
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Please, remember me_  
>  _Fondly_  
>  _I heard from someone you're still pretty_  
>  _And then they went on to say_  
>  _That the pearly gates_  
>  _Have such **eloquent graffiti**_  
>  _Like "We'll meet again"_  
>  _And "Fuck the man"_


End file.
